


Let Me Be Your Shelter

by krissybl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Offscreen character death, Post-Canon, Storms, not rick or daryl, richonne is not a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6858088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krissybl/pseuds/krissybl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexandria has finally fallen and they're on the road again.  Rick's failures are dragging him down and it seems like Daryl is the only one who can keep him afloat. When a storm hits and they're separated Rick knows he'll do whatever it takes to bring the other man home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ramblers in the wilderness

**Author's Note:**

> Title and inspiration from [Brother](https://youtu.be/61Wm_qlVD4Q) by NEEDTOBREATHE. All I could think of while listening was Rickyl. It's a really excellent song and I encourage you to check it out. 
> 
> I have no Beta so all errors are my own. Feel free to point them out.

In the end Father Gabriel had been true to his word. When the final confrontation with the Saviors brought an end to Alexandria, Father Gabriel had kept Judith safe. Alexandria had lived under Negan’s rule for a few months. Enough time to plan and stash weapons and supplies. The final catalyst had been the slaughter at The Hilltop. A few days earlier Negan had declared they weren’t keeping up their end of the bargain and had _made an example of them._ The only reason Jesus had survived was because he had been staying in Alexandria with Rick’s crew. Once news of the destruction of his former home reached him, he went to Rick. The leader was fully on board with some overdue revenge. They were as ready as they were going to be. Some final preparations were made and messages were passed to the entire group. The confrontation started at dawn. The Saviors that were stationed in Alexandria fought back viciously, but there was no stopping Rick and his family when survival was on the line.

The moment the last Savior had a bullet in his brain Rick went searching for his baby girl. He turned and ran for the chapel before the man’s body even hit the ground, Daryl and Carl on his heels, watching his back. After nearly tearing the front door from the hinges he found what was left of Gabriel trapped under a pile of dead walkers. There was a chunk missing from the padre’s neck and he was snapping and grabbing as Rick came near. Daryl stationed himself by the door and Rick put Gabriel down with the knife from his belt. The constable fell to his knees among the dead, head in his hands. In the silence filled with all his losses he heard a tiny sound. The most beautiful sound a father can hear when their child is missing. Tiny whimpered protests, coming from the closet Gabriel was slumped against. Rick started grabbing bodies and tossing them with renewed energy fueled by desperate hope. Carl was by his side in moments helping toss the corpses. The door was locked and Rick was ready to tear through it with his bare hands. Carl stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and passed over the key he had found in Gabriel’s pocket. When they got the door open, less than a minute after hearing that tiny voice, there she was. Judith had a mostly empty bottle and an impressive pout at being left alone in the dark. 

The last of Rick’s energy left him and he fell to the ground reaching for his little girl. He pulled her from the closet and held on as Carl joined them on the floor. Rick had her wrapped as tightly in his arms as he could without crushing her. He had one hand on the back of her little head, tangled in her curls, his face tucked against her neck, breathing in the scent of her. He savored a selfish minute with his daughter safe in his arms and his son pressed against his side. Carl had one arm wrapped around his father and the other clutching Judy’s little pink dress. Rick knew they couldn’t stay there for long. The Saviors in Alexandria might be gone, but there were more out there. Negan would find out sooner or later that more of his men had been killed. Not to mention the walls were down and walkers would be moving in. There was no more protection to be found in Alexandria. As much as Rick wanted to tear into Negan and make him pay, he had people to protect. It was better to run and survive, than to chase after revenge. He’d learned at least that much, after too much time and far too many losses. They needed to get moving. 

“Rick, we gotta move.” Daryl echoed his thoughts from where he was keeping watch at the front door. Rick sighed and stood, anchoring Judith to his hip. Carl stood by his side, keeping one hand on his sister’s back. The day was catching up to Rick. They’d been fighting and running and retreating, to turn and fight again for hours. The terror of the day, the relief of finding Judith and the last of his adrenaline draining away had Rick nearly dead on his feet. But when he caught Daryl’s determined expression the exhaustion dissipated. As long as he had Daryl by his side, as long as the hunter was standing, he could stand too. 

“What’s the situation?” Rick asked as he moved to the doorway beside the other man. He trusted Daryl to always know what was going on. Daryl was his second in command, his quiet sentry, his brother. 

“Far as I can tell the fuckers are all dead and we’re light on walkers at the moment. Hey Lil’ Asskicker.” Daryl paused a moment in his report to brush a curl back from Judith’s face. The little girl cooed at the gentle touch from rough hands. Rick caught the smallest uptick of the archer’s mouth. The closest thing to a smile he ever had. Daryl continued. “There’s two old passenger vans by the gate, should hold everyone and some supplies. There’s fuel left in cans. It’ll be enough to get clear of here.” Daryl led them from the house back towards the rest of their people, crossbow raised and eyes darting all around. Rick fell into step on Daryl’s right side and pulled out his Python. He checked the ammo with the hand not holding Judith. Seeing only two left he handed the gun to Carl on his other side and passed him some ammo to reload it. Carl did so silently and efficiently. He handed the gun back, checked his own and reloaded himself all while keeping his eyes peeled for any threats. 

“Who’s everybody?” Rick was afraid of the answer. What he really meant was _who survived?_

“Aaron hasn’t seen Eric since it all started.” Daryl’s voice was soft as he reported back to his leader. “All the others ‘cept our folks ran, got bit or taken out by the Saviors.” Daryl paused, not wanting or not able to continue.

“And…” Rick prompted. He could tell from the tension around the archer’s eyes that there was more. Over their years living, fighting, surviving side by side, Rick had learned to read even the smallest shift in Daryl’s face or body. He was pretty sure the reverse was also true. Daryl could read him better than Lori or Shane ever could. 

“Maggie…” Daryl dropped the front of his crossbow just the slightest amount and took a deep breath. He shook his head once and went back on guard, crossbow held steady again, still moving. 

“Shit.” Rick held Judith a bit tighter against his side. “After Glenn and the baby, maybe it’s kinder.” Rick’s mind flashed through images of Glenn under Negan’s bat and of the bloodsoaked bed two days later when Maggie lost the baby. He remembered the fire of pain in her eyes, and then suddenly nothing. The inferno went out and she became a shell of what she once was. Father, sister, husband, child all torn away from her. Rick wondered if she had managed to find a spark of her old self on her last day. He had seen her from a distance, fighting like a woman possessed. Her final assault on the world that had taken everything from her. 

“Ain’t nothing left that’s kind.” Daryl muttered as they pulled into view of the vehicles and the remaining survivors. Michonne, Abraham, Sasha, Rosita, Aaron, Eugene and Jesus were gathered, backs to each other and eyes wide open. Carol and Morgan had never made it back. Rick had no idea what had happened to them. Eleven people. Out of Alexandria and The Hilltop, eleven was all that was left. Rick stood frozen for a moment, just taking in the sight of the only people he had left in the world, his family. He was brought out of it by Eugene darting from formation to take down a lone walker. 

“Everyone alright?” Rick asked the assembled group. It was Abraham that answered.

“Not a rotten Savior left to run home and squawk. Sasha’s got a wrenched ankle and I’m pretty sure Aaron’s got a busted wing.” Rick noticed Sasha leaning heavily on Abraham and Aaron was holding his left arm tight against his chest. “Rest of us are beat as all Hell, but all extremities and major organs more or less intact.” Abraham finished reporting.

“Alright, good.” Rick looked over the exhausted faces and felt terrible that he had to ask more of them. “Everyone who’s able will start gathering supplies. Carl, help get Aaron, Sasha and Judith in one of the vans and keep watch. You still got ammo?” Carl nodded and Rick handed Judith over. Carl held her with the arm not holding his gun. “Good. The rest of us will be back quick as we can.” Rick was in full leader mode. “Rosita and Eugene, head for the food stocks. Gather everything you can and split it between the two vans. I want to make sure everyone’s covered if we get separated.”

“You got it, Rick.” Rosita nodded and she and Eugene headed away, shoulder to shoulder eyes scanning all directions and weapons raised. Rick took a moment to note Eugene’s smooth stride and rock steady grip on his gun. This world changed everyone. Some people became liabilities. Some became monsters. And some became protectors. Rick noted with some pride that Eugene had been forged into the latter. The leader looked back to the rest of his crew.

“Abraham and Michonne, check out what we have left for weapons and ammo. Anything you can grab, kitchen knives even, same thing. Split ‘em between the vans.” With quick nods they headed off as well. “Jesus, you get up on what’s left of the guard platform. I want a warning if we get company.” Even though Jesus was new to the group, he followed Rick’s word as law. With everyone else doing their assigned task, that just left Rick and Daryl.

“What’s the plan?” The archer asked. 

“You and me are gonna search this place quick. Make extra certain there’s no more of Negan’s rats hiding out, and we’ll grab anything we think might be useful along the way. Then we’ll meet the others back here.” Daryl nodded, but hesitated when Rick began to walk away. Rick stopped immediately at the slight pause and caught Daryl’s gaze.

“And after that?” Daryl inquired. Rick took a deep breath and his shoulders sagged. It had been awhile since they’d been wanderers. He wasn’t looking forward to his family having to go through it all over. But that was life now. After a few moments he raised his head and straightened his stance. No time to feel sorry for themselves. 

“We’ll head north.” Rick announced, and continued to explain at Daryl’s raised eyebrow. “We know Negan’s got camps all around here and to the south. But we didn’t see any indication that any of his people came from north of here. Plus, I figure if DC was a bust, next possibility could be New York. It might be a dumbass idea, but at least it’s an idea.” Daryl seemed to think on this for a moment before giving a tight nod and starting to move. Rick sighed in relief and fell into step beside him once again. He trusted Daryl to tell him if he was being a moron. Daryl was his check and balance system. If Daryl didn’t think a plan was terrible, Rick could move on it with confidence. Decision made, they began the task of checking houses and yards for anything useful or anything that needed to be killed. 

“Maybe cold weather will slow these dead fuckers down.” Daryl speculated after putting down a walker in the backyard of the first house they came to. 

“Maybe it will.” Rick chuckled and headed into the house by way of the kitchen door. He quickly grabbed some canned goods from the cupboards and a backpack from the front hall. They did their work efficiently and completely in sync. Daryl and Rick moved around each other as if their own body was just an extension of the other’s.

They made it back to the vans within an hour, three backpacks full of supplies between them. Shortly after Rosita and Eugene were bringing back the final load of food and splitting it into the backs of the vans. Abraham and Michonne arrived a few minutes later with the very last of the weapons and ammo they could find, along with blankets and spare clothes. Rick checked over what they had, nodded approvingly at his people and started laying out the plan. 

Abraham would be driving one van with Eugene riding shotgun. Sasha and Aaron were in the back row of seats, patched up as best they could be by Carl. Jesus came down from his perch at Rick’s signal and slid in right behind Abraham, helping to keep look out. At first Rick had reservations about putting both injured folks in one vehicle, but he figured his would have a baby, and that about evened out the vulnerabilities. That and he was pretty sure Rosita didn’t want to ride with Abraham and Sasha. So she piled in with Rick, Carl, Judith and Michonne. Rick had assumed that Daryl would ride shotgun and so was confused when Michonne climbed into the seat beside his. He looked at her, and as if reading his mind she pointed out Rick’s window to where Daryl was walking his bike over. The archer glanced up at his leader and they had a wordless exchange. Daryl flat out refused to leave his motorcycle behind. He stared at Rick though the driver’s side window of the van the leader would be driving, clearly refusing to get in.

“No way, Daryl. You’re too exposed on that thing.” Rick stared back just as hard. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if they lost Daryl. He wanted to believe he would pick up and keep moving for the sake of the others and his children, but he had been relying on the archer for so long. Daryl was his rock, his fortress. The thought of Daryl out in the open, separated from them, made his chest tighten.

“Better for quick runs than a big ol’ van. Uses less fuel.” Daryl’s gaze didn’t waver. Rick thought over that point. They would eventually settle, or stop along the way. Sometimes someone needed to make a solo or duo run in an emergency and there were places the bike could get, that one of the vans couldn’t. And it certainly would use a lot less fuel. But he shook his head. It was just too risky.

“What if we get separated? You won’t have any supplies.” Rick countered. He raised an eyebrow when Daryl rolled his eyes and let out a short breath that was practically a laugh from the guarded man. Over time Daryl had become more expressive. Though it seemed like it only ever happened around Rick. 

“Who you think you’re talking to, Grimes?” Daryl almost looked offended. “I got my bow and bolts on my back. Two knives and a sidearm on me right now. I got another knife, a pistol with ammo, two bottles of water, iodine tablets, matches, rope, first aid kit, food and a blanket stuffed in those saddlebags.” Rick’s eyes widened as Daryl recounted each item. He smiled at the reminder of how skilled and practical Daryl was. Then the smile dropped off as he realized he’d been beaten.

“Fine.” Rick relented with a sigh. He tightened his grip on the wheel until his knuckles turned white, already feeling the anxiety of being separated from Daryl. They had been at each other’s backs for so long, it felt wrong not to be together. “But you stay close. Don’t break of on your own to go exploring. I want to get a few hours between us and them before we need to stop for the night. I don’t want us getting separated. Got enough fuel, should be able to cover a decent distance.” Daryl nodded once and stepped away to get on his bike. Rick took a deep breath, started the van and led the way out of the gates. Daryl was right behind him on the bike and Abraham brought up the rear. 

Rick looked in his side mirror at the ruins of Alexandria. All he could see in the chaos was all the people they had lost. He was tired. Nearly at his breaking point for losing the people he cared about. He thought about what Aaron must be going through, not knowing what had happened to Eric. He thought about Maggie, her baby, Glenn, Hershel, Carol, Lori, Shane, Tyrese... Just when he felt like he couldn’t handle anymore remembering, Daryl’s bike swung into view in his mirror. Rick glanced in the rearview at his children, safe for the moment in the van, then back to the archer. Daryl was still going. Rick could keep going. He had one last glimpse of the broken town as they took a turn in the road. Rick pressed down on the accelerator and smiled as he heard the growl of a motorcycle keeping pace.


	2. restless from the searching

The first few days passed mostly without incident. They made slow progress clearing wrecks on the road, getting backtracked and turned around. Rick decided on a wide route around Baltimore, remembering the hell he had encountered in Atlanta. Occasionally they had to take out some walkers, but they didn’t cross any herds, and no other people. Enough fuel was salvaged from the wrecks to keep them moving. Daryl actually seemed lighter, more at ease than he had in Alexandria. Back in the town he had felt caged in. Out on the road he could breathe. He could be useful. He hunted, gathered plants safe to eat, scouted ahead. Back in town, he had been helping Aaron gather survivors. But that had felt like gathering sheep for the slaughter. He had turned out to be right. But out in the open with his family. Protecting them, feeding them. This was freedom. This was purpose. 

Meanwhile, Rick seemed to be breaking down. When they stopped at night he was jumpy and barely slept. His eyes obsessively passed from person to person, assuring himself they were still there. It was always worse when Daryl was away from the group. Michonne was just about tearing her hair out trying to keep the leader for dashing off after him and ruining his hunt. Rick always offered to keep watch, only sleeping when Daryl and Michonne threatened to tie him down with Daryl’s rope. 

Each day that passed wore on Rick. They didn’t have any calendar to mark but the weather was getting cooler and daylight was getting shorter. He was beginning to feel like he was leading his family to certain death. When he looked at the people around him all he could see were the people they’d lost. The latter being a much larger group than what stood before him. The endless road reminded him of every home that had fallen. First the camp, then the farm, the prison, the false hope of Terminus and finally Alexandria. Every death, every false haven was a failure. His failures. 

He started seeing things again. At first he thought it was real. He’d look in the mirror and see something in the distance closing in on them. They spent several days taking random side roads, hiding in abandoned towns, running from something Daryl and Michonne kept trying to tell him wasn’t there. Meanwhile they were heading further inland and losing days to Rick’s paranoia. When he caught a glimpse of the Governor he was forced to admit that he was losing it. He let Michonne drive.

It was getting harder to find supplies and each day that he knew his children went to sleep hungry was like a knife in Rick’s chest. Rick had nightmares that everyone learned to ignore. As they watched their leader unravel it became harder and harder to push on. Daryl stepped up and kept everyone going as best he could while watching out for Rick. The only time the other man seemed to relax, even a little, was when he and Daryl shared watch. They would sit close together, talking quietly while they observed their surroundings. During the days Daryl had taken to riding right beside the van that Michonne drove, almost close enough that he could reach into Rick’s window and touch him if he wanted. When they were forced to stop and scavenge or clear the road, he stayed right beside Rick. When everyone realized Daryl’s presence seemed to calm Rick, they encouraged the archer to stay with him at all times. He found himself setting a reassuring hand on Rick’s shoulder or patting him on the back when they found supplies. With each small contact Rick seemed to come a little further out of the dark. 

They made it all the way to northern New Jersey before all hell broke loose. The vehicles were barely sputtering along. The last stash of fuel they had found must have been bad. They hadn’t found a place to rest for the night and it was already dark. Add to that what they were pretty sure was the front end of a hurricane, and things weren’t looking good at all. They were on back roads with no buildings in sight. Abraham was driving the lead van. Rick had started to come back to his old self and was driving right on his tail. Daryl was having trouble with the rain and had started to fall behind. Rick was about to signal to Abraham and call the whole group to a stop for the night when they turned a corner and saw a group of houses they could take shelter in. The little community seemed safe enough. It was dark, and from what they could see through the rain, not very big with no stores or markets. In other words, not something survivors were likely to be holed up in as there wouldn’t be much in the way of supplies.

Anxious to find shelter Abraham sped up as much as the van would let him and Rick was right behind him, trying to keep an eye on Daryl. Just as Abraham pulled parallel with the first house a gust of wind rocked the vans and Rick looked back just in time to see Daryl’s bike go down. He sounded the horn to get Abraham to stop and leapt from the van fully prepared to run to the hunter’s aid. There was another gust of wind and a crack like a gunshot. Rick paid no attention and picked up the pace towards where he could see that Daryl hadn't gotten up. Only Michonne’s vice-like grip on his arm held him back in time to keep from getting crushed by the ancient oak that was suddenly right in front of him, blocking his path. The trunk of it ended somewhere in the forest off the the left side of the road. Directly in front of Rick was a tangle of branches taller than the vans that led off into the trees on the other side of the road. He started heading for the forest to find a way around and shouted for Daryl, not caring about the noise he was making.

“Damn it, Rick. Shut the hell up. You tryin’ to call every walker in Jersey?” The voice was barely audible through the wind and rain, but to Rick it was like the best song he’d ever heard.

“Daryl, you all right?” He was still trying to figure out how he was going get around this god damned tree to get to the hunter.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” Daryl called back. Rick was pulled away from his attempts to navigate around the tree by Michonne’s hand on his wrist. 

“Rick we got company.” Michonne was staring down the road, squinting through the rain, at a group of about a dozen or so walkers headed their way from various yards. They had clearly been attracted by all the noise. 

“Well take care of ‘em. I need to get through to Daryl.” Rick turned back to the tree. 

“There’s more coming and I can’t see shit in this rain. Never mind trying to get a grip on our weapons.” Michonne was trying to yank Rick back to the van. “They won’t be getting anywhere near Daryl past that tree. They’ll follow us. But we need to find shelter.”

“No way I’m leaving him out here alone.” Rick looked at Michonne like she had just suggested he cut off his own arm. 

“He’ll be fine. He moves quicker alone. Rick, your kids are in those vans. Aaron’s still hurt and we’re all exhausted. We need cover.” Michonne was speaking loud on purpose. She new Daryl had excellent hearing and was about the only person who could talk sense into Rick. Sure enough, a gruff voice spoke up over the rain.

“Are you a fucking idiot, Grimes. Get our people inside. I’ll find my way.” Daryl’s voice was nothing short of a command. Rick hesitated for a moment and looked back to the vans. Eugene and Abraham had taken out a few of the closest walkers, but more were pouring into the street. Michonne was right. They couldn’t get a proper grip on their knives and he didn’t want to risk waterlogging the guns. Besides, aiming in this weather would be problematic. He growled under his breath, finally giving in. 

“Fine. Let’s move.” He said to Michonne, who signalled for Abraham and Eugene to get back in their van. “Don’t you fucking die on me, Dixon.” Rick shouted through the branches before dashing for the still open driver’s door of his own van. They managed to run down the first few walkers and head up the first street they came to. This road was clear. It seemed like any walkers in the area headed for the noise of the tree falling and all the yelling. It would take them some time to catch up to the vans, but they were sure to follow the noise, away from Daryl. Abraham pulled down the street about a quarter of a mile, giving them enough lead time to bust into a house and clear it before the dead caught up. He screeched into the driveway of a small one story that looked like it could be secured easily. The driveway led around to a small yard which would hide the vans from anyone living who happened to come this way. Rick came to a stop right behind him and he and Michonne jumped out. Eugene and Abraham were already heading for the back door of the house. Rick and Michonne scouted around quickly to check all possible entrances were secure. By the time they made it back to the group Abraham was in the doorway declaring the house clear and ushering everyone inside, most carrying some supplies and Carl with Judith bundled up against the storm. 

Instead of heading inside Rick ran back to the van. Everyone was inside but Abraham.

“Grimes, what on God’s Gross Earth do you think you’re doing?” Abraham called. “Get inside. This storms fixing to blow the whole town down and we got rotters on our asses.”

“Get the house secure. Make sure everyone’s safe.” Rick didn’t even spare him a glance as he grabbed two battery operated lanterns and some extra ammo for his Python. He ran towards the front of the house to the sound of Abraham’s shouting. Rick had checked the outside of that house himself. It was secure. Michonne and the others would keep his kids safe. They would all be safe inside. It was Daryl that was stuck out in this storm alone. His mind could only focus on that one thought. _Have to find Daryl. Have to bring him home._


	3. shining like a lighthouse from the sea

Rick looked up the street and picked out the tallest house in the opposite direction of the incoming walkers. He sprinted for it, lanterns gripped in his left hand and swinging by his side. Fast as he could he ran up on the porch and tried the door. It was locked. Heart racing, he busted out one of the ornamental glass panels to the side of the front door with the butt of his gun. There was no time to try to peer around inside and see if things were clear, the first of the dead were already crossing the lawn. He reached in and groped around to unlock the door, hoping like hell there wasn’t anything waiting inside to take a chunk out of his hand. He hadn’t wanted to break the door down, because he needed to make sure it closed again. Walkers couldn’t turn door knobs, but Daryl could. He was counting on the dead getting bored and clearing out a bit by the time Daryl made his way into the community.

Once inside he made a quick search of the bottom floor and found it clear. He ran up the stairs and cleared the few tiny rooms on the second floor. From what he saw of the house outside he knew there was one more story. He looked up and saw a pull cord which he immediately yanked and jumped out of the way as a set of steps clattered down. Once upstairs he sets the lanterns in two windows of the tiny attic room, turning them on as bright as they would go. It had been less than ten minutes since they’d left Daryl. Rick could feel every second of that time like an eternity. The staccato rhythm of his pulse was loud in his ears, rivaling the sound of the storm outside.

Thankfully the room was mostly empty and he could pace unimpeded. He wanted to watch out the windows, but he couldn’t seem to keep himself still enough to do it. He knew this was risky. If there were any people out there they were going to come straight for him. Never mind if the dead happened to look up. They’d see the light and be drawn in just as much as the living. But he couldn’t think of another way to help Daryl find his way. Once the hunter managed to get around that tree, and Rick knew he would, he might not be able to find them. They had parked behind the house. Daryl was a great tracker, but this storm was bound to throw him off. 

Rick had no idea how much time had passed. All he knew was that he had to stay here and wait for Daryl. He couldn’t hear anything over the storm and his own heartbeat. The whole time all he could think was what would happen if he lost Daryl. Every terrible possibility flashed through his mind. More walkers come from behind Daryl and catch him off guard. He gets lost in the storm and ends up deep in the woods alone. Other people manage to find him. He loses his footing on a slick rock or trips over a branch in the dark, going down and getting knocked out. Each vision ends with Daryl gone and Rick broken. He couldn’t do any of this without Daryl. He couldn’t push on. He needed to other man to keep him standing. It was his weakness. He needed Daryl to make him strong. Without him, Rick suddenly knew for certain that he couldn’t survive. 

Rick was so caught up in his awful nightmare world that he missed the sounds of someone coming through the house. He’d left the stairs open leading up to the little attic room, light spilling down into the second floor hall. He had just passed by the opening in the floor when he heard the bottom step squeak. The breath caught in his throat and he backed up as slowly as he could to avoid making noise. He moved to the wall and aimed his Python at the top of the steps, positioned in such a way that whoever climbed the steps would have their back to him. Rick wanted to shout and find out if it was Daryl, wanted confirmation as soon as possible that the other man was safe. Only knowing that there was a possibility that it wasn’t the archer kept him silent. Rick held his breath and his gun as he stared. Finally, the tip of an arrow came through the opening, followed by a crossbow and a mop of windswept brown hair. Rick immediately dropped his gun hand and slumped against the wall in relief.

“Daryl.” He whispered. The archer’s head spun at the small sound, instincts kicking in. His crossbow was immediately leveled at his leader’s head without waiting to see who had spoken. 

“Jesus!” Daryl exclaimed and came the rest of the way into the attic, letting the crossbow fall to his side. The relief Rick felt at seeing the other man safe made him giddy. He couldn’t stop the small chuckle that escaped.

“Nope. Just me. Jesus is down the street with the others.” Rick’s hands were shaking with nerves and an itch to reach out and touch the other man. To assure himself that he was really there. But Daryl was racing through the room and shutting the lanterns off. Suddenly Rick had all the proof he needed that Daryl was real and solid. The other man was right in his face, forearm across Rick’s chest crushing him back against the wall. They were so close that he could feel the archer’s breath on his lips when he spoke.

“What the hell were you thinking with those lanterns? Do you know what kind of trouble you were asking for?” Daryl was furious. Rick thinks maybe he should feel guilty, but he doesn’t. He’d risk almost anything to bring the other man safely back to him. 

“I’m not stupid. I made sure everyone else was safe first.” Rick needed Daryl to know he wouldn’t endanger their family. Didn’t want him to be disappointed. 

“And what about keeping yourself safe, dumbass?” Daryl still hadn’t backed off. He must have put the crossbow down at some point because his other hand was suddenly latched around Rick’s wrist, grip almost painfully tight. 

“Couldn't leave you in the storm alone. Figured you'd need a light to guide you home.” Rick’s eyes were locked onto Daryl’s. He could hardly see the other man in the darkness left in the lantern’s wake, but he was trying to get Daryl to understand how much he needed him. “You’re my brother, Daryl.” In his head he knew that word wasn’t enough. It didn’t encompass everything Daryl was to him in this fucked up world. 

Daryl seemed lost for words. He dropped his head to his own forearm where it still had Rick pinned to the wall. They were pressed so close that Rick could feel the other man’s heat seeping through their soaked clothes, could tell that his breathing was just as frantic as his own. Daryl’s scent was filling his senses where his head rested near Rick’s face. Leather and evergreen and the clean smell of the rain they were both drenched in. The grip around Rick’s wrist was like a brand. Daryl claiming the ownership over Rick that the leader realized he wanted so badly to give. They may look to Rick as their leader, but it was only through Daryl’s support that he was able to stand at all. 

The archer let out an animalistic growl and Rick could feel it in his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was likely an expression of frustration over Rick’s stupidity. That didn’t change how it affected him in that moment. Relief and adrenaline were still coursing through his veins, Daryl’s warmth all around him, his weight keeping him pinned to the wall. Rick couldn’t suppress the shiver that the feral sound sent through his body. Daryl’s head raised and his eyes locked on Rick’s again. 

“Cold?” Daryl asked. Rick couldn’t get any words out past the tightness in his throat, so he just shook his head. The hunter’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t move away. In fact he shifted a bit and seemed to somehow be closer, feet planted between Rick’s own. The hand around his wrist tightened and Daryl whispered, mouth just a few inches away. “Swear you won’t be this stupid again.”

“I can’t.” Rick whispered, and Daryl growled again.

“Damn it, Rick!” The archer pulled back, released Rick’s wrist and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Rick was instantly cold and wanted more than anything to have the heat back from just a moment before. Daryl paced the room, looking like a caged animal. All wild strength and potential. Rick placed his gun on the floor and approached the other man cautiously.

“I can’t promise that.” Rick’s voice was pitched low. He reached out and grabbed Daryl’s shoulder to stop his pacing and turn him so they were facing each other again. “I will always do whatever it takes to get you back to me. I need you beside me.” The archer seemed frozen under Rick’s hand for a moment, until all of a sudden he wasn’t. Daryl moved faster than Rick could track and he found himself pinned to the wall again. Daryl’s entire body was pressed against his, holding him in place and setting his blood on fire. The archer had one hand clawed in the fabric at his hip and the other latched to the back of Rick’s neck, fingers pulling at his hair. Rick couldn’t pull in enough air to speak, but by the time another moment passed, speaking wasn’t an option. 

The hunter darted his head forward and captured Rick’s mouth with his own. Daryl’s hand tightened almost painfully in Rick’s hair and the leader let out a growl of his own. He grabbed Daryl by the hips and pulled him in as tight as he could, returning the kiss with equal force. Rick’s hands travelled to Daryl’s back. He felt the stitching of wings under his fingers and thought how appropriate they were. His warrior angel. His guardian. 

Daryl pulled back, panting, and dropped his forehead to Rick’s shoulder. Rick let his head fall back against the wall, equally short of breath. They stood like that for several long moments, hands still clutching each other and bodies melded together. 

“Fuck.” Daryl exhaled against Rick’s neck, sending sparks dancing through his veins. “I ain’t no good with words. But you gotta know I need you, too.” Rick ducked his head until Daryl got the hint and looked into his eyes.

“I do now.” He confirmed before leaning back in to recapture the archer’s lips. Truth is, at this point they didn’t need words. Rick planned to show Daryl with his hands and mouth and body just how much he needed him. Daryl seemed determined to do the same. Hands that had been holding to each other for dear life were now scrambling to remove wet clothing. Rick started with Daryl’s vest. The leather garment hit the floor with a thud as he moved on to the buttons of the archer’s shirt, Daryl quickly returning the favor. While they worked off their shirts, struggling with the wet fabric, they traded desperate kisses. The frantic movements of their hands and bodies meant they sometimes landed a bit off, catching the corner of a mouth or chin. Their lips, teeth and tongues continually working to bring them back together. Both shirts hit the floor with a wet smack. Rick moaned against Daryl’s mouth when their bare chests met, skin slick with rainwater and sweat. The leader explored with fingertips and palms. He ran his hands over the taut muscles in Daryl’s arms. The archer’s whole torso was shaped to perfection by the heavy crossbow he preferred to other weapons. Rick could feel the strength of the other man in the contours under his hands. 

Daryl’s fingers were on Rick’s belt, cursing into the leader’s mouth as he slipped on rain soaked leather. When he finally got it open he groaned and started immediately on the button and fly. Rick’s hands trailed down over Daryl’s chest, splayed his palms over the flat belly before moving on to belt and fly, wanting to catch up. He could feel the heat of Daryl’s arousal through their clothes and he needed to feel that heat on bare skin. With flies undone their pants were loose around their hips, slipping down. Rick pulled away from their kisses, which had become somewhat absent minded in their quest to bare each other’s skin. His eyes were glued to the light dusting of hair that started just under Daryl’s navel, he could just barely make out in the dark against pale skin. The trail led down and disappeared under rain soaked boxers. They’d both lost a bit of weight since leaving Alexandria meaning the water laden garment was already loose and it only took a slight shift of Rick’s fingers to expose Daryl completely to his hungry gaze. 

Daryl had paused when Rick had pulled away, hands settled on his leader’s hips, just above the elastic of equally loose boxers. He sucked in a breath and dug into the flesh under his fingers when Rick took him in hand and began to stroke him slow and firm. Rick looked up at the archer and saw a face contorted in bliss, eyes closed and bottom lip caught between clenching teeth. Seeing emotion so raw and clear on Daryl’s face was like a gift. The guarded man kept everything inside and seeing him like this now had Rick’s brain shorting out. All he could think of in that moment was bringing that bitten lip into his own mouth. Rick threaded the fingers of his free hand into the tangled mess of Daryl’s hair and slammed their mouths back together, biting on that lip himself and drawing a needy sound form the archer. Daryl’s brain was trying to come back online so that he could get his hand on Rick, too. He shoved the loose boxers down just as Rick had with his. Daryl reached between them and felt Rick’s moan against his lips as he wrapped his hand around solid heat. 

The feel of Daryl’s calloused hand wrapped around him was pure bliss. But, with both their hands between them, stroking each other, he felt like he wasn’t close enough to his archer. He removed his hand from Daryl, swallowing the whimper with a kiss. Gently he took Daryl’s hand from himself as well. At Daryl’s confused glance, Rick simply smiled and ran his now free hand along Daryl’s hip around to his back. Rick could just feel the edge of a ragged scar and felt Daryl start to tense. But he kept his hand moving and the other man relaxed again. He slipped his fingers into the back of Daryl’s loose jeans and _pulled._ They came together with a growl from the archer and a moan from Rick. 

Daryl’s head fell forward onto Rick’s shoulder as he thrust his hips against Rick’s. Their lengths slid along each other, aided in their movement by residual rainwater, sweat and precum. Rick untangled his left hand from Daryl’s hair and moved it to join the other in the back of Daryl’s jeans. He gripped into the firm flesh and pulled the other man in with all his strength. Daryl, for his part, grabbed onto Rick’s shoulders and moved against him with long, hard thrusts. They moved together getting lost in the slide of skin and pressure of fingertips. Rick was pinned between the strong hunter and the wall, using it to hold him up as his knees began to shake. Daryl’s arms snaked up the leader’s shoulders and tangled in damp curls. He gripped tight as his movements became erratic. Rick knew they were both close to the edge. He could feel coiled heat reaching a boiling point in his gut. The feel of Daryl’s slick skin against his, the warmth of flesh in his hands where he pulled him close, the slide of their erections against each other. Rick leaned his head back into Daryl’s strong hands, eyes rolling up and neck exposed. Suddenly he felt teeth against his pulse point and he was gone. 

“Daryl.” He breathed the other man’s name out like a prayer as he stiffened, locked between the solid heat of Daryl’s body and the wall. As he rode out the waves of his release he felt Daryl tense up, fingers pulling in his hair. Rick felt the pulses of the other man’s erection as it emptied between them, mixing with sweat and his own mess. 

They stayed locked together while their breathing evened out and pulses settled. Rick was just starting to pull his hands from Daryl’s jeans when the hands still tangled in his hair pulled him in for a searing kiss. Daryl explored his mouth thoroughly with teeth, lips and tongue. Claiming him completely. Rick couldn’t help the aborted thrust of his hips as he was caught up in the heat of the kiss. He hissed against Daryl’s mouth at the friction on his still over-sensitive cock. Daryl pulled away and locked his gaze on Rick’s. By now their eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room and Rick could read the intensity of Daryl’s expression.

“I’m not gonna ask you to promise not to risk yourself for me.” Daryl’s voice was low and raw. “Cause I’d do the same if I were in your place. But be less stupid next time.” 

“I will.” Rick promised. “But I’m coming after you know matter what.” Daryl nodded once and began the process of untangling from Rick. He winced at the sticky pull between them and the chafe of his wet jeans. He tucked himself away and moved to one of the small windows.

“Doesn’t look like this storm is letting up any time soon.” He turned back to Rick who was frowning at their soggy shirts, clearly reluctant to put his back on. “You’re sure everyone else is safe?” 

“Absolutely.” Rick nodded. “Checked the perimeter myself. Vans are tucked away and the house is secure. It’s about five down from this one.”

“Well no sense in getting drenched all over again. With these stairs pulled up and the door closed ain’t no way a walker’s gonna make it up here.”

“And I don’t think anyone living is going to be moving around in this.” Rick agreed. “I saw some blankets stashed in a closet downstairs. I’ll get ‘em and we can rest til the storm blows over then meet up with the others.” Daryl nodded and started laying out his soaked things, hoping to let them dry a bit before putting them back on. By the time Rick had returned with blankets and a few pillows, Daryl had set Rick’s gun and his bow by a clear spot in the corner. Rick laid out the blankets and pillows. Daryl took the knife from his belt and shoved it under one of the pillows. Rick smiled.

“You really are always prepared.” He said as he started removing his boots and socks. After what had just happened he figured they could sleep naked. Give all their clothes a chance to dry. Daryl looked up as Rick was taking off his boxers. He paused for a moment before looking away and clearing his throat.

“Course I am. Somebody’s gotta keep your dumb ass alive.” Daryl slowly followed Rick’s example and soon they were settled in a nest of blankets, connected by miles and miles of bare skin. Daryl was curled around Rick’s back, one hand under the pillow wrapped around the knife hilt, the other resting on Rick’s hip. The leader drifted off to sleep feeling safer than he probably had since before the world went to hell. It didn’t matter that their was a storm raging outside or that the dead were walking around, hungry for flesh. For tonight at least, he felt sheltered in strong arms.

When they woke the next morning the sky was clear and blue. A look out the window showed downed trees all over the neighborhood and not a walker in sight. They gathered up their slightly less wet clothes and dressed in contented silence. Rick headed down first and cleared the second floor again just to be sure. They went to the first floor and cleared that as well, going opposite ways and checking all the rooms quick as they could. Daryl wasn’t back in the front hall by the time Rick got there and some of his anxiety began to creep back in.

“Daryl, where’d you go?” He called through the house. 

“Brother, I’m right here.” Daryl said with a slight uptilt at the corner of his mouth as he emerged from the direction of the kitchen. Rick took a deep breath and quieted the chaos in his mind. Daryl was here with him and fine. As long as that were true, he could make it through anything. Together, they left the house and headed back to their family.


End file.
